


Just make me come unglued

by yourbuttervoicedbeau (kiwiana)



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: 5 Things, 5+1 Things, Childhood Friends, Coming Out, Discussed but not shown childhood trauma, Epistolary interludes, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Let Alexis Rose Eat, New York City, One minor accidental outing, POV Stevie Budd, Past Alexis/Ted, Post-Canon, Twyla's anecdotes continue to be horrible, and Stevie's childhood wasn't much better, egregious use of text messages, pretty much all Stevie's past canonical relationships get at least a passing mention, she's just less inclined to joke about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:14:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26284006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwiana/pseuds/yourbuttervoicedbeau
Summary: 5 things Stevie realises about Twyla, and one thing Twyla realises about Stevie, thanks to a trip to New York City.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer & Stevie Budd, Stevie Budd & Alexis Rose, Stevie Budd & David Rose, Stevie Budd/Twyla Sands
Comments: 41
Kudos: 62
Collections: Elevate! A Schitt's Creek Femslash Exchange





	Just make me come unglued

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lastchancecafe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lastchancecafe/gifts).



> > Prompt: Future Fic- A girls weekend in New York to visit Alexis. I’d love to see some platonic fun times and if someone develops or acts on a crush that’d be a bonus! 
> 
> Big thanks to Januarium for giving me a kickstart when I wasn't sure what my approach to this fic was going to be and reading it through again at the end, to this_is_not_nothing for answering my NYC questions I had after not having been there for four years, and a MILLION thanks to spiffymittens who held my hand basically the entire way through. I couldn't have done it without y'all.
> 
> And thank you to the Elevate mods for bringing more femslash into the Schitt's Creek fandom! You're the heroes we need 💛 
> 
> The title is from ['Complicated' by Carolyn Dawn Johnson](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dl8CVYeV1Fk).

3 People  
  
Alexis  
**Alexis:** Hey girlies! ✨✨✨ Its been way too long since we all saw each other! Come to NYC for a girlboss weekend next month pleeeeeeeeease??? 💖💖💖💖  
Twyla  
**Twyla:** Oh that sounds amazing! Let me know when and I’m sure I can get george to cover the cafe  
**Stevie:** Um, did you mean to send this to me?  
Alexis  
**Alexis:** YES TWY! 🎉🎉 I was thinking maybe a long weekend from the 14th to the 17th ✨✨✨✨  
**Alexis:** Stevie!!!!! Of course I meant to send this to you, miss girlboss of the rosebud motel group!!!! 😘😘  
**Stevie:** Ok… well I’ll have to see if I can take a couple of days off  
Alexis  
**Alexis:** Lucky you Stevie I have an in with your business partner 😉  
**Stevie:** Torrid affair with Roland huh  
Alexis  
**Alexis:** 🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮  
Twyla  
**Twyla:** 😂😂😂  
**Stevie:** Is overuse of emojis a requirement to be in this group chat or  
Twyla  
**Twyla:** Oh my gosh stevie you’re so funny!!  
**Twyla:** 😂😂  
**Stevie:** Ok checked my work calendar and I’m free that weekend so… sure why not  
Alexis  
**Alexis:** OMG YAY STEVIE!!!!!!!!! GIRLS WEEKEND!!!!!!!!! 🎉🎉 🎉 🎉 ✨✨✨✨  
Twyla  
**Twyla:** I’m so glad you’re coming stevie!  
**Twyla:** Come into the cafe tomorrow and I can book our flights!  
**Twyla:** This will be my first time in new york since my aunt’s parole hearing  
**Twyla:** I’m sure this will be much more fun!  


**~Twyla is observant~**

“Stevie!” Her name rings out across the café floor as she steps through the doorway, Twyla smiling sunnily at her from behind the counter. Stevie musters up a return smile, albeit one with about 800% less energy, as she slides onto a barstool. 

After living here her entire life and never seeing a single thing change at Café Tropical it’s still sort of weird, even almost a year later, to walk in and not have it look exactly like it did when she was a kid. Twyla hasn’t made any huge changes since she bought the place — Stevie never did quite get the full story there, though she assumes the Schitt’s Creek real estate market isn’t exactly booming — but she’s certainly spruced things up a bit, modernising the decor and even paring the menu down to something almost resembling a normal size. Stevie doesn’t know a whole lot about colour palettes and the like, but she assumes the new colour scheme must be good because she hasn’t heard David say a single negative thing about it since Twyla painted.

She’s still not completely sure why she agreed to go on this trip, aside from the obvious fact that Alexis has a way of not taking no for an answer. Her friendship with Alexis, if it can be called that, has always kind of revolved around Alexis living at the motel or through David, and she doesn’t hang out with Twyla as much as she used to. It’s just that she sort of feels, since the Rosebud expansion, as though she’s two people: the badass businesswoman who travels up and down North America like the boss she technically now is, and the townie who exists almost solely in flannel shirts. But Twyla is a business owner now too, and Alexis is taking the New York City PR world by storm as far as she can tell, and there’s something appealing about feeling like she can be both parts of herself on this trip. That they met her as the townie, but respect her as the badass. It’s… nice.

There’s no way she’d ever admit any of that to Alexis, though. Twyla… maybe. Given enough wine.

Twyla pulls her laptop out from behind the counter and flips it open, interrupting her reverie. “So, I thought we could look for a mid-afternoon flight on the Friday,” she says brightly. “That way we don’t have to leave here too early to drive to Toronto, but we’ll still get there in time to take Alexis out and distract her.”

Stevie frowns. “Distract her?”

“Oh.” Twyla’s smile flickers for a second. “It’s just, um, I think Alexis chose this weekend for a reason.”

“Okay…” Stevie is starting to feel like she’s being roped into something, and she wonders if it’s too late to schedule an unmissable meeting for that weekend.

Twyla bites her lip. “It, uh, will have been a year. Since Alexis and Ted…”

“Oh.” Stevie knew the breakup took a while for Alexis to get over — she was the one, after all, who’d had to find a box of tissues and awkwardly pat Alexis’ arm when she found her clutching the skirt of her dress crying in the bathroom at David and Patrick’s wedding — but she didn’t know she was still hung up enough on it that the anniversary of the breakup required reinforcements. Then she blinks as something occurs to her.

“Um, you remember the date Alexis and Ted broke up?”

Twyla shrugs as she turns her attention back to her computer. “Sure. It was an important thing in her life, and she’s important to me.”

A half-forgotten memory floats to the surface, hazy and indistinct; she’s in grade 1 or 2, probably, sitting alone in the school cafeteria staring down at the empty table when Twyla slides into the seat next to her, flicking a scraggly, unkempt braid behind her head as she sits. She’s clutching a brown paper bag and her smile is cautious. _My mom gets really mad if I take leftovers home, but I’m not that hungry,_ she says softly. _Will you eat my sandwich for me so I don’t get in trouble?_

Stevie didn’t realise then, when she took the PB&J out of Twyla’s hand and wolfed down the first thing she’d eaten all day, that Twyla could just as easily have thrown the sandwich out. She forgot about that moment, just like she forgot all the times they snuck out of their respective houses as teenagers to smoke weed behind the motel — because Aunt Maureen had no sense of smell — and Twyla would bring snacks or sometimes leftovers, claiming that she always got super hungry when she was stoned but somehow it was Stevie who ended up eating most of them.

She never told Twyla what was going on at home. She never told _anyone_ what was going on at home. But somehow Twyla noticed, just like she noticed the bruises on Maddie Johnson’s arms in grade 9 and told the school counsellor; just like she noticed Jade having an anxiety spiral in the middle of Cabaret rehearsals and ushered her outside without making a fuss; just like she noticed, apparently, the date of her best friend’s breakup and marked it on some sort of internal calendar.

Stevie could barely tell you David’s wedding anniversary, and she was copied into approximately eight thousand emails that had the date in them. She and Twyla are very different people.

“Oh, here’s a good one,” Twyla says, spinning the laptop around. “We’d be in New York by dinnertime. And there’s a return flight that would have us back in Schitt’s Creek by late afternoon on the Monday.”

Stevie just nods. “Works for me; I don’t have any work meetings until Tuesday morning. Do you want to text me the flight number so I can book mine?”

“Why don’t I just book for both of us? That way we know we’re both taken care of.”

“Okay. Just let me know how much I owe you.”

Twyla shakes her head. “Don’t worry about it,” she says, a weird expression on her face like she knows a joke Stevie isn’t in on.

Something itches unpleasantly under Stevie’s skin. Twyla doesn’t say it unkindly, or condescendingly — but even all these years later and making the kind of money she could have only dreamed of as a kid as the partial owner of a thriving motel chain, there’s still a part of her that can’t stand the idea of being in anyone’s debt. “I’m good for it,” she insists sharply, but Twyla just smiles at her.

“I know you are, Stevie,” she says. “Tell you what, why don’t you pay for dinner for us both sometime? In New York or back here, whatever works.”

 _What, like a date?_ Stevie almost jokes, but something stops her. “Okay,” she says instead, and Twyla’s grin widens in response.

“Okay!” She spins the laptop around but overshoots, almost knocking it off the counter before she manages to catch it at the last second. She looks flustered, for some reason, and Stevie clamps her lips together trying not to laugh.

3 People  
  
Twyla  
**Twyla:** Just booked flights for me and stevie! Get into newark 4:25pm on friday and fly out of laguardia 11:10am on monday  
Alexis  
**Alexis:** OMG YAY!!!!!!!! ✈️✈️✈️✈️🗽🗽🗽🗽 So excited girlbosses!!!!!! ✨✨✨✨  
**Alexis:** OK so I’m thinking a Friday night in after your flight for 🥡🥡🥡 and 💅💅💅 and movies and gossip with my two best Schitt’s Creek girls!! And then Saturday night let’s go OUT 💃💃💃 We can do touristy stuff during the day if you guys want!!  
**Stevie:** Sure  
Twyla  
**Twyla:** That sounds amazing I can’t wait!  
**Stevie:** Thanks for not assaulting me with emojis Twyla  
Twyla  
**Twyla:** 🗽🗽🗽  
**Twyla:** 😁  


**~Twyla is genuinely kind~**

In the year since the Rosebud expansion, Stevie has become a seasoned business traveller. She can get a week’s worth of clothes into her carry-on easily, knows which shoes are easy to remove to go through security and which ones shouldn’t be worn on days when she’s flying, is accustomed to the two minutes of polite chit-chat once she slides into the back of an Uber before the rest of the trip is taken in silence.

But Twyla is _friendly_.

They’re a few minutes from Alexis’ apartment, according to the app, and in the half hour since they were picked up from the airport Twyla has cooed over the photo of the driver’s baby that’s stuck to his glove compartment, asked for his recommendations for places to eat that aren’t overly touristy — _I’m sure our friend has plans too, but it’s always so great to have options!_ — suggested some yoga poses to help with back stiffness after he’s been driving for long periods, and insisted that he send her the GoFundMe for his grandma’s hip replacement surgery even after he demurred several times. Twyla — and now Stevie, by virtue of being in the car for this conversation — knows more about this total stranger than Stevie knows about most of the residents of Schitt’s Creek. 

_Who **does** this?_ she thinks, but she knows the answer. People who give a shit about other people do this. People who give a shit about other people always greet you like they’re genuinely happy to see you, even when you come stumbling into the café exhausted after a cross-country flight and can only give monosyllabic responses to their questions. People who give a shit about other people ask questions about your life not because they’re fishing for information, but because they genuinely want to hear the answer.

Stevie will never understand it.

She shared the trip details in the group text so Alexis is waiting for them at the door of her building when they pull up, hugging Stevie before doing absolutely nothing to help with her and Twyla’s bags. She exchanges a bemused glance with Stevie while Twyla writes down the driver’s email address and promises to send him a couple of vegetarian recipes that she uses at the café for the next time his mother-in-law is staying with them, and then she sees the car off with a cheerful wave before turning to pull Alexis into a hug.

“Um, Twy, did you know that guy?” Alexis asks as she leads them up the stairs to her apartment, Twyla and Stevie each lugging their suitcases behind them.

Twyla gives a puzzled little shrug, as if she doesn’t understand the question. “No, but he was really nice,” she says. “I hope his wife’s eczema clears up.”

Stevie can see her bewilderment reflected on Alexis’ face, but neither of them say anything.

Mr Rose  
  
**Today** 4:19 PM  
**Johnny:** Hi Stevie Johnny Rose here  
**Johnny:** I was just talking to Ruth  
**Johnny:** She wanted to know if you would have time to swing by the New York office on Monday morning  
**Stevie:** Once again Mr Rose I know it’s you, your number is saved in my phone  
**Stevie:** And yeah she emailed me, unfortunately we have to be at laguardia first thing Monday so it isn’t going to line up this time  
**Johnny:** Oh that’s a shame  
**Johnny:** Hopefully next time you’re in town  
**Johnny:** I hope you and Alexis are having a nice time  
**Johnny:** Maybe next time you could have your girls weekend in LA  
**Stevie:** That would be nice Mr Rose  
**Stevie:** Twyla is with us too  
**Johnny:** Oh well say hi to Twyla for me  
**Johnny:** Tell her I miss her meatloaf  
**Stevie:** Sure thing  
  
**Read** 4:52 PM

**~Twyla understands her~**

After a night of wine and face masks and gossip and eating their body weight in Chinese takeout, it’s a slow start for all of them on Saturday morning. Eventually it’s Alexis’ promise of lunch that convinces them all to tumble out of bed (or off the air mattress, in Stevie’s case; they’re rotating, so everyone has one night sleeping on the floor and two nights sharing the bed. Stevie’s honestly kind of amazed Alexis agreed to it.)

They walk through lower Manhattan and across the Brooklyn Bridge before Alexis leads them into Grimaldi's, where they all proceed to practically inhale the best goddamn pizza Stevie’s ever had in her entire life. When it’s time to head back for an afternoon of museums and art galleries they take the Manhattan Bridge; halfway across, walking in companionable silence next to Twyla, Stevie realises Alexis has stopped somewhere behind them to take selfies. They stop to wait for her and Stevie walks towards the railing, staring down at the river below.

“A bit higher than Haxon’s Bridge, huh?” she says with a laugh. As a kid she spent basically every daylight hour during summer on that bridge, jumping off into the water below, over and over until darkness swept across the creek and she had no choice but to return home.

She feels Twyla’s arm brush her elbow as she moves to stand beside her. “I never spent much time at the creek,” she says casually. “I can’t swim.”

“Wait, really? You never learned as a kid?”

Twyla shrugs. “I mean, my uncle tried to teach me once? But he didn’t really show me the technique, he just threw me in the river and left me to it. One of my cousins had to pull me out.”

 _Jesus, Twyla._ It’s so blasé, like it always is; like it’s just perfectly normal and natural to talk about this stuff, to let people in on all the things that they could judge you for, or worse, pity you for.

“How do you _do_ that?” she blurts out without thinking, and Twyla’s smile doesn’t falter even as her eyebrows crease in confusion.

“Do what?”

“How do you just…” she swallows hard past the sudden tightness in her chest, but years and years of wondering pour out of her in one messy question. “How do you just talk about it? Like it doesn’t hurt, like it doesn’t make you angry that everyone else got some idyllic fucking childhood, like it doesn’t— _fuck_.” She cuts herself off, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes because she’s not going to cry in the middle of a fucking bridge, she’s just not.

There’s a long silence, and Twyla says quietly, “Because I don’t think everyone else got some idyllic childhood. I think more people are carrying trauma with them than we realise. Hey, look at Alexis.”

Stevie drops her hands, confused. “What about Alexis?”

“I mean…” Twyla shrugs, a small smile on the corner of her lips. “All that money, all that… everything, but have you actually listened to some of her stories?”

 _Listened_ might be too strong a word, but she’s heard them, sure. To be completely honest she’s never really thought about what lies under the light words, but casting her mind back… she thinks she gets what Twyla means.

“So basically, everyone’s got their shit, we’re not that special?”

Twyla shakes her head. “More like, it’s really easy to think you’re the only person who’s suffered,” she says softly. “And I think it can help to know that… you’re not. That there are people out there who understand. Maybe not the exact shape of it, but the outline.”

Stevie thinks about the things she doesn’t talk about, the words she doesn’t say. She thinks about how easy they might be to say to Twyla, who has dealt with so much so cheerfully that she couldn’t possibly be fazed by any of it. “Yeah,” she says thickly. “I think I get that.”

“On the other hand,” Twyla continues, “some people _have_ led a pretty charmed life. And it doesn’t hurt them to be reminded, every once in a while, that they should be grateful for that.” Her normally sweet smile has turned downright devious by the end of this sentence and it’s… jarring, but in a tantalising way. It feels like the time a few years back that her mom called her, asked about the motel, and didn’t once ask to borrow money or tell her how awful she was for not visiting her; like a couple of months ago when David genuinely, without a hint of sarcasm, complimented Jocelyn on her sweater. It’s thinking you know someone and then seeing a whole new layer to them, a layer you like, a layer you want to see more of.

Stevie’s very intrigued by this layer of Twyla.

Brian  
  
**Today** 2:42 PM  
**Brian:** Ms Budd there’s an email that’s just come through from Springside Inn. They’re saying they need a conference call on Monday. Do you want me to go back to them and tell them you’re on vacation?  
**Stevie:** Okay you really don’t need to call me Ms Budd and I also don’t expect you to be answering emails on weekends.  
**Stevie:** In fact don’t go back to them until Monday morning. I don’t want them thinking they can get away with that.  
**Brian:** Are you sure that’s okay?  
**Stevie:** Absolutely. We’ve already told them we’re only available during business hours. If they’re trying for a power play I’m better at arm wrestling than I look.  
  
**Read** 3:13 PM

**~Twyla is ~~attractive~~ ~~gorgeous~~ smoking fucking hot~**

Since the Rosebud expansion, Stevie has had to oversee some complex negotiations as part of her role.

None of those negotiations came close to the complications that arise when three women are getting ready to go clubbing in a studio apartment, especially when they’ve already had two bottles of Chardonnay between them.

When Alexis finally emerges from the bathroom in a dress that looks like it cost more than her rent, Stevie ducks in. As quickly as she can she strips down before wriggling into her trusty black dress; it’s the dress she wears when she wants to get laid which definitely isn’t the aim tonight, but it’s also the closest thing to a clubbing dress she has. She runs a brush through her hair, teasing it out, but her makeup bag is back out in the living room and she doesn’t want to keep Twyla from the bathroom, so she gives herself a once-over in the mirror hooked over the door before opening it and striding out. Alexis wolf-whistles, and Stevie gives her the finger as Twyla moves past her to take her turn in the bathroom.

She’s almost finished with her makeup by the time Twyla steps out, and Stevie glances up at the noise before dropping her lipstick in shock.

Twyla looks smoking. Fucking. Hot.

It’s not as though she didn’t know Twyla was attractive. Like, objectively. But she’s seen Twyla in a hundred different looks over the years and none of them prepared Stevie for this version of her. Twyla is all skintight shimmering fabric that makes her legs look a mile long and shows off her incredible shoulders and Stevie wants…

Well. She wants.

And that’s not even the worst part. The worst part is that she isn’t looking at Twyla and thinking _I want to fuck her_. (Well, okay. Now she is.) The worst part is that she’s looking at Twyla, and her palms are sweating and her pulse is racing and her mouth is dry, and a whole lot of things that she’s never thought to examine are being thrown into sharp relief.

Whenever she comes home from a trip, the first place she goes is the café. Always. Because she knows Twyla will be there, sweet and smiling and… soothing. There’s something about just being in her presence that makes Stevie feel a little bit less like she wants to crawl out of her skin. There always has been, if she thinks about it; that’s why she always used to gravitate towards Twyla at parties, before she inherited the motel and stopped going out so often.

Oh, fuck. She likes Twyla. Like, _likes_ her.

Maybe she has for a while.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

But still. She can’t be… can she? She’s had a lot of sex with guys. Like, a _lot_ of sex, with a _lot_ of guys. And yeah, occasionally it’s been crap but most of it has been pretty good, and some could even be called fantastic.

_Yeah, and between David and Jake, at least, you should also be **well** aware that gay and straight aren’t the only options here, idiot._

How long has she been standing here, gaping like a moron because she’s just now realising she has the hots for someone she’s known for basically her entire life? Not long enough for either Alexis or Twyla to notice, thank goodness for small mercies; they’re chatting amongst themselves, completely oblivious to Stevie having a full-on sexuality crisis not five feet from them. And then Twyla throws her head back, laughing at something Alexis said and exposing the long lines of her neck, and Stevie wants to bury her face in the juncture between her neck and her shoulder and just… 

Jesus. She can’t deal with this right now. She needs way, way more wine.

Patrick  
  
**Today** 9:15 PM  
**Stevie:** I need your advice  
**Patrick:** If this is a Rosebud thing, I'm pretty sure you guys have your own accountants  
**Patrick:** Who are paid a lot more than I am  
**Stevie:** It's not a work thing it's… personal  
**Patrick:** Oh  
**Patrick:** Wow  
**Patrick:** Okay, shoot  
**Stevie:** How did you realise you were into red wine after so long thinking you weren't?  
**Patrick:** Sorry, I'm not sure what you mean?  
**Patrick:** I've always liked red wine  
**Patrick:** I mean, it depends on what you're drinking it with but…  
**Stevie:** No that's not what I mean  
**Stevie:** Actually you know what this is stupid don't worry about it  
  
**Read** 9:51 PM

Patrick  
  
**Today** 10:02 PM  
**Patrick:** Oh, okay  
**Patrick:** So, I know what you're asking now  
**Stevie:** Oh god you asked David didn't you  
**Patrick:** I mentioned you were asking me weird questions about wine yes  
**Patrick:** I'm really sorry, Stevie  
**Patrick:** If I'd realised what it meant I never would have done that  
**Stevie:** No it's fine  
**Stevie:** I would have told him at some point I just  
**Stevie:** He's known about himself forever. It's not the same.  
**Patrick:** No, it's not the same  
**Patrick:** And to answer your question there was a LOT of hiking involved  
**Patrick:** And a ton of self reflection  
**Patrick:** But ultimately it came down to, I want to spend more time with him, being with him feels right  
**Patrick:** The rest of it, the label and what that meant for my… wine drinking? Came later  
**Stevie:** I just feel like an idiot for not realising  
**Patrick:** Yeah, I did too. But I'll tell you what David told me: there's no timeline for this stuff. Don't get bogged down thinking about the time you didn't know, when you can be moving forward with this new and amazing understanding of yourself  
**Stevie:** Wow. That is… surprisingly helpful.  
**Stevie:** David really said that?  
**Patrick:** He did. But don't thank him yet, he's alternating between watching me text you and typing frantically on his phone  
**Patrick:** I'm really sorry again that I told him  
**Patrick:** And sorry in advance for whatever he's about to say to you  
**Stevie:** Oh god I'll top up my drink before opening any texts from him  
**Patrick:** White or red?  
**Stevie:** Fuck off  
**Stevie:** And thank you  
  
**Read** 10:20 PM

Buttface David  
  
**Today** 10:19 PM  
**David:** STEPHANIE MICHELLE BUDD  
**David:** ARE YOU SPENDING YOUR WEEKEND IN NEW YORK SWIMMING IN THE LADY POND???  
**Stevie:** Wow thanks so much for your support on my coming out journey  
**David:** Oh fuck off you know I support you  
**David:** Unless you're banging my sister  
**David:** STEPHANIE MICHELLE BUDD ARE YOU HAVING SEX WITH MY SISTER  
**Stevie:** I'm not having sex with your sister  
**Stevie:** Why would she sleep with someone you've already had sex with  
**David:** It wouldn't be the first time  
**David:** But hey  
**David:** Being serious or whatever  
**David:** I'm happy for you  
**Stevie:** Ew gross  
**Stevie:** Thanks  
**David:** Best wishes  
**Stevie:** Warmest regards  
  
**Read** 10:47 PM

**~Twyla is forthright~**

Fuck New York.

What sort of stupid city has a drum circle at the ass-crack of dawn?

Stevie opens one eye and the drums get louder, and it’s only then that she realises they _might_ only exist in her own head. She groans, the sound half-muffled by the pillow, but before she can summon enough energy to do anything exerting like opening the other eye Twyla is crouching down beside the bed.

“Morning, sunshine,” Twyla says softly. “Want some aspirin?”

It’s only at this magical word that Stevie manages to squint at Twyla’s hands, one of which is indeed holding a bottle of aspirin while the other clutches a glass of water. “Oh my god, you’re an angel,” she croaks without thinking, too hungover to be embarrassed, her eyes laser-focused on the painkillers as she scoops a couple out of the bottle and into her mouth with as little movement as she can get away with before slowly pulling herself upright and reaching for the water. She swallows the entire glass down in four long gulps before sinking back down into the pillows and waiting for the pills to kick in. Her eyes slip shut, and she almost imagines she feels something brushing lightly across her forehead; an achingly unfamiliar tenderness. But she can feel her breathing evening out, knows she’s drifting back to sleep, and can only assume she’s starting to dream already.

The next time she wakes up it’s to the _click-click-clack_ of Alexis’ heels as she paces across her hardwood floor.

“Okay, here’s what we need to do,” she’s saying, and the authoritative tone is so like the one her dad uses in Rosebud meetings, albeit quite a bit higher, Stevie wants to laugh. She wonders who would hate that comparison more, Alexis or Mr Rose. “We need an apology video up by lunchtime emphasising that it was a mistake, that he has nothing but respect for live theatre, and we need to reach out to…”

Stevie tunes her out as she pulls back the covers, standing up slowly, but her head feels surprisingly steady. She pads out to the living area to find Alexis now off the phone and hunched over her laptop, typing frantically, while Twyla is sitting on the couch, her feet tucked up underneath her and a large steaming mug in her hand. 

“What’s going on?” she asks as she rubs sleep out of her eyes. 

“One of my clients was spotted on his phone multiple times throughout a _Hamilton_ performance last night,” Alexis sighs. “And I want to make sure we get his apology video up on Twitter and Instagram as soon as possible, so I think it’s best if you guys go to brunch without me? I can meet you at the restaurant when I’m done dealing with this, and then we can all go to the aquarium together. Is that okay?”

Stevie glances over at Twyla, who looks up at her from the couch with a wide smile, and any hope that whatever she was feeling last night was a result of clubbing clothes and a couple of glasses of wine is shattered. A fucking _smile_ shouldn’t affect her as much as it does; shouldn’t make her want to crawl onto the couch and tuck herself into Twyla’s side and just fucking _cuddle_ like this is a goddamn Hallmark movie or whatever. God, this is _awful_. She doesn’t know what to do with all these feelings; she’s never had to find room for them before, doesn’t quite know how to make them fit between the defensive sarcasm and the skin-crawling terror of actually letting somebody know her. 

This, she knows instinctively, is going to be so much fucking harder to get over than David or Emir were. God knows there’s nothing worse than unrequited feelings.

*

There is something much, much worse than unrequited feelings.

“So, there’s something I need to tell you,” Twyla says once the waitress has taken their food orders and Stevie has downed three cups of coffee in quick succession. “I was planning on talking to you on the way home but spending this weekend with you…” she trails off, staring determinedly into her tea. “I kind of feel like I’m going to explode if I don’t say anything?”

Stevie’s stomach starts churning, and she doesn’t think it’s last night's shots. “Um, okay?”

“Okay.” She starts drumming her nails along the length of the mug, and Stevie watches her fingers move so she doesn’t have to look at Twyla’s face. “Okay. The thing is, I have feelings for you.”

Stevie can hear the blood rushing in her ears, feels her pulse speed up under her skin. She’s literally hot under the collar as she stares across the table at Twyla’s nervous, hopeful face. “No you don’t,” she blurts out before she can swallow back the words. She expects Twyla to look hurt at this, or angry, but her expression is closer to… amused?

“I don’t?”

“You don’t. You _can’t_. You’re a nice person, and I’m… not.”

Twyla just tilts her head. “Stevie, I’ve known you almost my entire life,” she says softly. “I know who you are. I _like_ who you are.” She takes a calm sip of her tea while Stevie tries to remember how to breathe. God, take her back to the unrequited feelings. She could get over those if she tried. How is she supposed to deal with knowing Twyla likes her back when of course they’re not going to… 

They can’t. Because if they do then it will hurt so much more when she loses it, when Twyla realises she can do better. It’s so much harder to let go of something once you’ve had it.

Stevie’s done this dance before.

“Look, Stevie,” Twyla says kindly and it’s _too much_ , why the fuck is she being so _kind_? “I didn’t tell you this to— to pressure you, or anything. And I was going to tell you on the way home so you had some time to process it away from me, so I’m sorry about that. If you’re not interested, that is totally fine. I just… owed it to myself to be honest with you. Just in case.”

Stevie has no idea what to say in the face of that. Is this how mature, emotionally healthy people deal with their feelings? What the fuck is she supposed to do with that? If she was a good person she’d say _Thank you, but no_ and let Twyla go find someone who deserves her.

But she’s never claimed to be a good person.

“Can I, um, think about it?” she croaks out finally, and Twyla nods.

“Stevie, oh my gosh, of course,” she says sincerely. “Seriously, take all the time you need. I’m here when you’re ready.” It’s such a simple, uncomplicated statement that it makes Stevie want to cry and she’s just thinking about pushing away from the table, maybe taking a walk around the block, when the waitress appears with their food and the smell of bacon wafting up from her plate makes both her hunger and her hangover slam into her with force.

She picks up her cutlery, and Twyla does the same. They eat their brunch in awkward silence.

3 People  
  
Alexis  
**Alexis:** OMG crisis averted ladies 🎉🎉  
**Alexis:** Apology vid going out as we speak!! 📣📣  
**Alexis:** Gonna grab a 🥯 on my way to you and then we can hit the aquarium yay!!!! 🦈🦈🦈  
**Alexis:** Hellooooooooooo???  
**Alexis:** Okay well I’m coming to meet you and I’ll just hope you’re there! 🙏🙏🙏🙏   


**~Stevie can be brave~**

The first thing Alexis does when they enter the aquarium is snatch up a map and scour it carefully.

“Does anybody mind if we skip _Sharks, Rays & Turtles?”_ she asks, her voice falsely bright, and both Stevie and Twyla shake their heads. 

“I’m going to hit the restroom real quick,” Twyla says as Alexis marches towards _Ocean Wonders: Sharks!_ like a woman on a mission. “I’ll catch up with you guys.”

“Um, okay.” Stevie watches her go, chewing her lip. She doesn’t _think_ Twyla is avoiding her, or upset with her; it’s possible she just genuinely wants to give Stevie space to think things through. It’s just that all her history up to this point has taught her to be on the lookout for the catch or the passive aggression.

But Twyla is _nice_. Genuinely nice, and a good person in a way that Stevie will never understand. At the end of the day, how long can someone like that put up with someone like her?

With a sigh, she walks into the shark exhibit before pulling up short to avoid crashing into Alexis, who has frozen stock-still in the middle of the walkway and is staring up at the glass above her head. When Stevie follows her gaze she sees the problem — a huge turtle, swimming languidly above them as though it couldn’t care less that it’s reminding Alexis of the very thing she came here to forget.

“Wow,” Stevie says dryly. “So the turtle isn’t in the exhibit called turtles, it’s in the exhibit called sharks. _That_ makes sense.”

Something that sounds like a chuckle bursts out of Alexis’ mouth, but it’s very wet-sounding. Stevie glances behind her, hoping against hope that maybe Twyla has entered quietly behind them, but no such luck; she knows she’s not exactly the most comforting or nurturing person, but she lays a hand awkwardly on Alexis’ arm.

They stand in silence for a long moment, long enough that Stevie starts to wonder if it would be rude to remove her hand, when Alexis clears her throat.

“It was worth it, you know,” she says. When Stevie frowns at her, she continues. “Being with Ted. Even though we couldn’t— even though life got in the way, even though it sucks now, if I had to do it over I wouldn’t change it. Ted and I… it was worth it.” She turns, dropping Stevie’s hand from her arm in the process. “I know you’re scared, Stevie, but I think Twy is worth it for you.”

Stevie freezes, heat prickling up her neck. “She told you?”

Alexis shrugs. “She’s my best friend. We talk.” At Stevie’s incredulous stare, she adds: “She may have texted me while I was on my way to meet you guys this morning.”

“I just—” Stevie desperately, wildly wants to run away from this conversation, but… she also sort of wants someone to tell her it’s okay. “It’s like it’s something I didn’t even know I wanted, and now I know I could have it… it has to be too good to be true, right?”

“He's a business major that wears straight legged, mid-range denim. He's not into me.”

Stevie blinks, looking around, but she can’t see anyone else in the room with them or anything else that would explain the bizarre non-sequitur. “Um, are you having a stroke?” she asks carefully, and Alexis huffs a laugh.

“That’s what David said to me when I said I thought he was getting a vibe from Patrick,” she says, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I’m just saying, I’m not… totally unfamiliar with emotionally stunted people not knowing what to do when something good is standing right in front of them with wide eyes and an honest face and an open heart.” She glances back up at the turtle, blinking quickly.

“Are we just talking about me and David here?” Stevie asks carefully.

Something flickers at the corner of Alexis’ mouth that might, if Stevie really squints, be a smile. “Maybe not.”

Stevie looks up at the turtle too. “I’m scared I’ll fuck it all up,” she whispers, more to the turtle than to Alexis, but it’s Alexis who hums in acknowledgement.

“You know,” she says, “David apparently gave Ted some really good advice right before we got back together, and I think it applies here: you’ve got it if you want it, Stevie. Don’t let it go.”

Stevie blinks furiously. “Okay, what the _fuck_ ,” she says quickly. “You’re the second person in two days to impart some really solid advice that came from David. How is it that the most profound thing he’s ever said to me is some weird metaphor about how we’re all grapes?”

“Mm, trust me, I was surprised too,” Alexis says. She opens her mouth to continue but before she can say anything else the door opens behind them and when they turn Twyla is in the doorway, smiling brightly at them both. The afternoon sun pours in behind her, making her look like she’s lit up from the inside out, and Stevie feels her stomach lurch. How the fuck did she never _notice?_

“Hey, Twy!” Alexis says, and Stevie jumps; for a second, she’d forgotten all about her. “As you can see, this exhibit is _grossly_ mislabelled.” She points up to the turtle, who Stevie swears is looking down at them smugly. “So I’m going to go talk to someone about that. You two should stay here.”

“Oh,” Twyla frowns. “We can come with you, if you want.”

“Nope!” She grins at them. “You guys should definitely stay here, and enjoy the exhibit. Just the two of you.” Then, as if that wasn’t obvious and embarrassing enough, she throws a dramatic not-wink in Stevie’s direction before making her way to the door at the other end of the exhibit and throwing them open. By the time they slam shut behind her, Twyla has walked forward so she’s standing next to Stevie.

“Is she okay?” Twyla asks, concern and empathy all over her features, but Stevie isn’t thinking about Alexis. All she can think is, _Don’t let it go_. She whirls around, takes Twyla’s face in both hands, and kisses her.

It takes Twyla a second to react, and in that moment Stevie is terrified that maybe she’s changed her mind already but then Twyla is kissing her back, her hands coming to rest tentatively on Stevie’s waist, drawing her in. 

It’s exactly like kissing a guy and it’s nothing like kissing a guy. The mechanics are the same; figuring out how they best slot together, feeling the frisson of _want_ go running down her spine when their tongues meet each other. But Twyla is all soft, yielding heat under her hands and that’s new, new and different and addictive and Stevie wants more. She lets one hand slide back into Twyla’s hair, fingertips coming to rest on the nape of her neck, and it feels a little bit like a homecoming.

She’s not sure how long they kiss for, but eventually they have to pull back to breathe. When Stevie opens her eyes the first thing she notices is Twyla’s lips, flushed and red from how long they were kissing, and the sight makes her tingle. The second thing she notices is that the turtle is now hovering directly behind Twyla’s head, staring at them intently.

“Okay, this turtle is way too invested in us making out,” Stevie mutters. Twyla glances behind her before turning back, her smile soft and hopeful.

“Let him look,” she laughs. “So, what does this mean?”

Stevie swallows hard. The physical part, that’s easy enough, but talking about her feelings? If she could barrel past that she would. It’s what she’s always done in the past and it’s always worked just fine.

Well, okay. It worked fine until it didn’t. It worked fine until there was a throuple on the table, or an unused overnight bag at her feet as she and Mr Rose drove home from the Hospies in awkward silence, or…

Yeah. She needs to work up the courage to use her words. Because this… whatever this is, she wants it to be better. She wants it to _work_. And if that’s not completely fucking terrifying, she doesn’t know what is.

“It means that I like you,” she bursts out. “It means that you’re funny and smart and gorgeous and I don’t understand why you like _me_ and I have no idea what I’m doing and the only thing I know is that I really want to kiss you again.”

Twyla’s smile widens with every word. “You know what?” she says softly, taking half a step forward. “I think that’s a pretty good start.”

3 People  
  
Alexis  
**Alexis:** OMG do you think you two can stop sucking face for two seconds and come meet me at the entrance please????? 🤮🤮🤮  
**Stevie:** Nope  
Twyla  
**Twyla:** Sorry alexis  
**Twyla:** I think what stevie means to say is sorry we’ll come and find you  
**Stevie:** No, what Stevie means to say is  
**Stevie:** 🖕🖕  
Alexis  
**Alexis:** Rude, Stevie!  
**Alexis:** I’m really happy for you guys 💖💖💖  
**Alexis:** But please take your 👅👅 out of each other’s mouths now  
**Alexis:** No seriously, we have dinner reservations!! ⏰⏰  
**Alexis:** UGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Come and find me on [Tumblr](http://yourbuttervoicedbeau.tumblr.com).


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